come on home

i walk into the living room. mo is watching some show on michael murphey. she asks if that’s MY michael murphey. sorta, i say. he wasn’t really mine after he left austin. and dear god never make me hear wildfire again.

i could never hear wildfire too many times, she tells me.

i defiantly cue up the old stuff. alleys of austin. honolulu. geronimo’s cadillac. cosmic cowboy. she listens intently, then exclaims:

“god. i’m so glad i never had to hear him in concert.”

i contemplate the best place to dump a body in the desert on the impending drive to texas. but then she says:

“i love john prine.”

marriage is all about compromise. and maybe headphones.


About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
This entry was posted in margarine and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s